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Class ■ “PZ ^ 
Book y 8 
Copyright N" 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






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4 





“Wahbegwannee,” the 
White Flower 

and Other Stories 


Compiled ty 

ANNE SFOTTSWOOD YOUNG 
/) 



New York: EATON & MAINS 
Cincinnati: JENNINGS & GRAHAM 


\UBHA«Y of OONQRESS 

TweO«ptM KKWviM 

DEC >0 i90? 

0«pyricni tnvy 

Str 

^XXc.Ho. 


Copyright, 1907, by 
EATON & MAINS. 


“WAHBEGWANNEE,” THE 
WHITE FLOWER 

AHBEGWANNEE” is 
not the real name of 
this little Indian chief. 
^ Indeed, if the truth be 
told, he is not an Indian 
at all, but a sunny-haired, 
blue-eyed American boy, and 
he lives in the Land-of-Make- 
Believe all the time. One day 
he is a pirate, fierce and ter- 
rible ; the next day he is arrayed 
in gorgeous garments and be- 
comes a prince or a king. But he 
has most fun of all in playing In- 
dian, and he loves his tomahawk, 
his feathered head-dress, and his 
bows and arrows. When bedtime 
comes our little boy forgets that he 
has .been a king, or a prince, or a pirate, 
or even an Indian chief during the day, 
and he becomes only a sleepy, tired little 
fellow ready for bed. And this is the old 



6 


“Wahbegwannee’ 


legend told to him of the Pond Lily, Wah- 
begwannee, the White Flower: Once when 
the Indian braves were gathered about their 
wigwam fires, they saw the flash of a falling 
star across the sky, and that night one of 
the braves dreamed that the star, bright, 
glorious, and beautiful, came to him and 
told him it wanted to live on the earth and 
among the Indians. Then the young brave 
awoke and told his dream to the other 
braves, and they waited and watched for 
the star. Each night the star hung lower 
in the sky, and at last it disappeared from 
view. The Indians knew then that the star 
had come down to the earth, but they 
could not find it, for it had hidden itself 
away in the golden heart of a white rose 
in the mountain. But the chilly mountain- 
side was a lonesome place for the beautiful 
star, and it soon went to live on the prairie 
among the flowers of the great plains. 
Here the buffalo herds went stamping by 
and frightened the star, and it rose from 
the prairie. The Indians saw the star rise 
and float toward the sky, and they feared 


“Wahbegwannee” 


7 


it would not return to them, but to their 
surprise a soft breeze floated the star over 
a silver lake. Now the star saw the golden 
gleams of its own shadow in the sparkling 
water, and it changed its course and floated 
again toward the earth till it rested on the 
waters of the lake. The next morning the 
lake was all aflame with white and gold 
pond lilies. “The night stars have blos- 
somed on the lake,” cried the little Indian 
children, in delight; but the Indian wise 
men said: “The bright star that we saw 
has come to dwell with us.” 



FLOWER THOUGHTS OF JAPAN 

S OME of the pret- 
tiest flower fan- 
cies come from Japan. 
In the land of the 
chrysanthemum and 
the cherry blossom 
even the little chil- 
dren learn the lan- 
guage of the flowers, 
and you may be sure 
if you receive a floral 
offering in Japan that 
there is some sweet 
and subtle meaning 
hidden in the fra- 
grant blossoms. If 
you are going away 
on a long journey, 
then flowers that bloom twice in the year 
are given to you as a loving expression of 
the hope that you may return soon to those 
who care for you. A sprig of pine means 
eternal faithfulness, for “ it fadeth not even 



9 


Flower Thoughts of Japan 

throughout a thousand autumns.” When 
the season is dry and the plants and trees 
are drooping and withering for want of rain, 
then floral gifts are offered to the rain-god, 
with the blossoms all curving from right to 
left, so that the “honorable East Wind” 
may be appeased. If, however, fair weather 
is desired, then the most beautiful blossoms 
that can be found are offered to the West 
Wind, turned in the opposite direction, as a 
supplication for warmth and sunshine. To 
those who are ill only strong and sturdy 
flowers are sent, to indicate a wish on the 
part of the giver that the health of the 
sick one may soon be restored. Certain 
flower petals mean long life and happiness, 
but the prettiest fancy of all is found in 
the names of the flowers themselves. Soft, 
musical Japanese words are strung to- 
gether, like pearls, to form poetical names, 
and the azalea, wistaria, magnolia, and 
other beautiful flowers become known by 
phrases so lovely that they must surely 
have come from the land of elves and fairies. 
“Shades of the evening mist,” “Waves of 


lo Flower Thoughts of Japan 

the morning stm,” “Moon’s halo,” “Snow 
on the leaf of the bamboo,” “ Starlit night,” 
“Golden dew,” “Spray-capped wave,” 
“ Companion of the moon,” “Ten thousand 
times sprinkled with gold,” are only a few 
of the sweet flower thoughts of Japan. 



A SPELLING LESSON 



OOR, very poor ! ’ ’ sighed mamma. 
“ Queer, isn’t it, that that child 
cannot learn to spell? Can’t 
you help her, Katherine?” 

Katherine was Lotta’s oldest sister. She 
was in the high school, and was going to 
be graduated in June. You may think she 
had very little time to give to a little sis- 
ter in the third grade who could not spell, 
yet she answered mamma’s question cheer- 
fully : 

“ I’ll try, mamma, dear. Where is Lotta ? ’ ’ 

Soon two heads were bending over a 
book. “Spell pieces,” said Katherine. 

“ P-e-i — ” began Lotta. 

“How do you spell pie?” interruoted 
Katherine. 


11 



12 A Spelling Lesson 

“Why, p-i-e, of course,” said Lotta, 
promptly. 

“Now, would you like a pieee of pie?” 
asked Katherine. “ Think of the pie.” 



“ P-i-e-c-e-s ! ” spelled Lotta. 
“ Can you spell wasp?” 
“W-a-p-s.” 


A Spelling Lesson 


13 


“Try ‘was’ first,” suggested Katherine. 

“That’s easy. W-a-s.” 

“ Now wasp.’' 

“Oh! W-a-s-p. Katherine, you are so 
good to help me spell!” said Lotta, ear- 
nestly. 

One day Miss Lane heard Lotta and some 
of her little friends talking together very 
earnestly. 

“You used to miss every day, Lotta,” 
said one. “ How is it you never do now?” 

“ Why, you just want to think of some 
word you know already that is like the one 
you want to learn. Take these words in 
tomorrow’s lesson. Nothing is no thing, 
and anyone can spell both of those words 
and then put them together. Father is 
fat, her. Many is man, y. And so on. I 
just love to spell now!” 



THE LITTLE LILY QUEEN 

W HEN the Queen of Holland was a 
little girl she was called “the lily 
queen who reigns over the fair Kingdom 
of Tulips.” She was a merry, happy child, 
full of plans for her beautiful dolls and her 
pigeons and her pony. Her people loved 
her very dearly and when she traveled 
through the land they would gather about 
her to wave and cheer. Now the little 
princess loved to see the big crowd of peo- 
ple who came to welcome her and always 
looked forward to her trips with great 
happiness. One day the queen mother sent 
the Princess Wilhelmina with her governess 
and nurse and little cousin along the river 
Rhine,, and none of her people knew about 

14 


The Little Lily Queen 15 

the journey. All went well till they stopped 
at a certain station. The little princess 
looked about but to her disappointment 
there were no crowds of eager people wait- 
ing to see her. The 
guard even scarcely 
looked at her and 
ohe felt very much 
hurt and troubled. 
Finally she ran up 
to the guard and 
asked, “Why, if my 
people love me, do 
they not come to see 
me ? ’ ’ but the guard, 
not understanding, 
looked at her in 
amazement. “ Why 
do you not answer me?” asked Wilhel- 
mina, angry and surprised. “I am the 
princess -of the Netherlands.” Just then 
the governess missed Wilhelmina and came 
hurrying up to take her little charge away, 
and told the guard that she was indeed 
the little princess of Holland. Then he 



1 6 The Little Lily Queen 

explained to Wilhelmina that he did not 
know she was coming, and that her people 
did not know it either, and that they 
would be very, very sorry when they 
found out they had missed seeing her. 
Wilhelmina felt better then. The guard 
however after thinking matters over man- 


aged to let the town 



know that the little 
princess was at the 
station, and men, 
women and chil- 
dren rushed down 
from all directions 
to see her. She was 
then delighted and 
quite satisfied and 
happy, and need- 
less to say the 
people were happy, 
too. But the queen 
mother was far 
from satisfied 
when she learned 
what Wilhelmina 
had done, and 


The Little Lily Queen 17 

told the little girl so when she returned 
home. 

“ But I made every one happy,” said the 
little princess, “the station master and all 
the tourists and the town people. They 
wanted to see me and I wanted to see 
them, and we were all glad.” 



A LAUGH is just like music, 

It lingers in the heart, 

And where its melody is heard 
The ills of life depart ; 

And happy thoughts come crowding 
Its joyful notes to greet — 

A laugh is just like music 
For making living sweet. 



i8 





RAINBOW 


A t the end of the rainbow — so a dear 
old fairy story tells us — at the very 
spot where the bright, glowing bands of 
purple and crimson touch the earth, there 
is buried a wonderful treasure of gold and 
sparkling jewels. There safely hidden away 
in the rainbow are beautiful rubies, emer- 
alds, and sapphires, reflecting all the bright 
beams of the srm. But no one has yet laid 
his hand on the rainbow, although many a 
time after a sunny shower, the beautiful 
arch is so clear and bright that it seems 
very near to us, and it looks as if it might 
be easy to find the place where the treasure, 
spoken of in the fairy story, lies hidden. 

*9 


20 


At the End of the Rainbow 


But if you should try to find the fairy gold 
and jewels, you would be disappointed; for 
the rainbow with all its lovely coloring soon 
fades away from the earth and sky, and 
with it fade away the jewels and the gold. 
Of course this story of the beautiful treasure 
at the end of the rainbow is only a pretty 
fairy tale, but there really are jewels that you 
can find after a rainbow shower, which will 
bring you almost as much happiness as the 
finding of the fairy treasure. Can you guess 
what they are? Hidden away in the grass, 
down at the brookside,in the field and woods, 
all fresh and sweet from the shower, you can 
find fragrant flower-jewels. Perhaps, after 
all, these were the treasures that the fairy 
story meant us to find while we were search- 
ing for the gold and jewels at the end of the 
rainbow. Go pick the flowers, and count 
their colors sometime after one of those 
cool, refreshing showers that bring the rain- 
bow in the sky, and see if you cannot find 
flower-jewels as fair and lovely as the 
wonderful gems of the fairy tale. 



O FOR the far away days grown dim, 

And our dear little ancestors, quaint and prim. 
Standing so straight in a stiff, solemn row. 
Watching the tapestry grow and grow. 

Just think to yourself how those children would stare 
If I had been there, if you had been there. 

O, in the never-think days of today. 

With our curly heads running on nothing but play; 
We loll in our chairs and forget to arise. 

While grandmother, horrified, shows her surprise. 
Indeed, with good cause might our ancestors stare. 

If I had been there, if you had been there. 



21 


ORIOLES 


O rioles build the prettiest little 
homes imaginable for their birdies. 
Most birds, you know, find a tiny niche in 
forked branches to place their nests, such 
as can hold their nest in the face of the 
wind. But orioles hang their dainty little 
homes securely to some swinging branch, 
where the gentle wind rocks the little baby 
birds to and fro all the day long, and yet 
so strongly is it fastened that a tempest- 
wind can’t tear it away. An oriole’s nest 
should remind you of the pretty nursery 
rhyme that runs: 

Rock-a-bye-baby up in the tree top, 

When the wind blows the cradle will rock, 

for surely these pretty nests swing just like 
a cradle. If you watch and listen in nest- 
building time, you will hear a few clear, 
sweet notes in and among the trees, and 
soon there will be a flash of bright gold, 
like the shooting of a star. It is the oriole, 
and when he lights on the branch he looks 
like a glowing flower of orange and black 

against the green of the leaves. If you look 
22 




I 




24 


Orioles 


at the picture, you will see ribbons hanging 
to this swinging nest, and you will be glad 
to know that a little girl named Helen 
helped this oriole to build its nest, by put- 
ting out on the bushes nearby bits of 
cotton and string and narrow gaily colored 
ribbons. On each string and ribbon was 
fastened a little card on which was written 
“ Helen’s nest. ” Now it happened that the 
orioles let the tags of these ribbons hang 
down below the nest, to the great delight of 
the little girl who had given them to the 
little homemakers. You, too, can have a 
nest all your own this summer, even if you 
do not live near the home of the orioles, for 
other birds will take kindly to assistance in 
their home-building, if you are thoughtful 
enough to select the right material. Then 
you, too, like this little girl Helen, can 
watch all summer long the birds in their 
homes — those dear little nests on which may 
appear your names : Katherine or Kenneth, 
Donald or Dorothy. 


TRY IT 



I FEEL so out of temper with Ben and 
Bert, ’ ’ cried Dick. ‘ ‘ They have run off 
with my express wagon just as I wanted to 
use it myself.” Dick stamped his foot 
angrily, then laughed. “I really must — ” 
“ Do something in revenge?” inquired his 
Cousin Cecilia. 

“ No ; just look over my Book of Thanks. ” 
“What’s that?” said Cecilia, as she saw 
him turning over the leaves of a copy-book 
nearly full of writing in a round text hand. 

“ Here it is,” said Dick, then read aloud: 
“ ‘March 8. Ben lent me his football. ’ Here 

*5 


26 


Try It 


again: ‘January 4. When I lost my dollar, 
Bert gave me half of his.’ There’s a lot 
more about both of them, too. Well,” Ob- 
served the boy, “They’re good boys, after 
all.” 

“ What do you note down in that book? ’ ’ 
asked Cecilia, looking over his shoulder. 

“All the kindnesses that are ever shown 
me. You would wonder how many they 
are. I find a great deal of good from mark- 
ing them down. I do not forget them, as 
I might do if I only trusted to my memory, 
so I hope that I am not often ungrateful; 
and when I am cross or out of temper I 
almost always feel good-humored again if I 
only look over my Book of Thanks.” 

Dick’s idea is a good one. Try it. 


Y ou who arc the oldest, 

You who are the tallest, 

Don’t you think you ought to help 
The youngest and the smallest? 



THE BROOK 


I CHATTER over stony ways, 

In little sharps and trebles, 

I bubble into eddying bays, 

I babble on the pebbles. 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance. 
Among my skimming swallows; 

I make the netted sunbeam dance 
Against my sandy shallows. 

I chatter, chatter, as I flow. 

To join the brimming river. 

For men may come and men may go. 
But I go on forever. 


27 


— Tennyson. 



28 






A LOVER OF MUSIC 

A LEGEND tells us that Saint Cecilia 
played and sang so beautifully that 
the angels came down from heaven 
to listen, bearing lilies in their arms, and 
afterward the people called her “ Heaven’s 
Lily.” She lived at a time when Christians 
were brave, very brave, for there were many 
wicked people who sought to put them to 
death. This Roman girl was as beautiful 
as she was brave, and the love of Christ 
was always in her heart. We know this 
is true, for she did many good deeds for 
the poor people about her, and soon be- 
came known as Saint Cecilia. She lived 
in a palace full of beautiful things, but 
she loved more the poor people about her, 
and for this reason they said; “Her home 

zg 


30 


A Lover of Music 


and her palace must be in heaven.” Many 
artists have painted her picture but we 
give you the “ Cecilia ’ ’ of the great Raphael. 
The heart of Saint Cecilia was full of song, 
and her voice was wonderfully sweet, and 
though she could play many instruments, 
she felt that none of them except the organ, 
which the legend tells us she invented, could 
express the full happiness that was in her 
heart. 



L ots of time for lots of things 

Though it’s said that time has wings; 
There is always time to find 
Ways of being sweet and kind ; 

There is always time to share 
Smiles and goodness everywhere; 

Time to send the frowns away, 

Time a gentle word to say, 

Time for helpfulness, and time 
To assist the weak to climb ; 

Time to give a little flower. 

Time for friendship any hour; 

But there is no time to spare 
For unkindness anywhere. 



tJURRY! Hurry! Flight and flurry, 
Wheeling, soaring, chirp and call; 
From the sea-cliffs, from the chimneys. 
Homestead bright or dark sea-wall; 
Onward moving, surely proving 
There is One who guides us all ; 

So we gladly hasten northward. 

To obey the summer call. 


SWALLOWS 

I F you go to the country this summer, be 
sure not to miss seeing the pretty barn 
swallow as he skims swiftly over the fields, 
his bright, steel-blue feathers flashing in the 
sunlight. In the evening, if you live near 
a lake or pond, you will see the swallows 
returning home to the old barn rafters 
where their clay nests are hung, and you 
will also see before the sun goes down that 
they will circle and wheel about for an hour 
or more over the water, playing “ Follow 

3 * 



32 


Swallows 


the leader” with an exquisite grace and 
with glad, chirping notes ; they seem to say 
over and over again, “ Good night, good 
night,” as they dart to and fro on whirring, 
glistening wings. Try to get near enough 
to these birds some evening to see how they 
drink from the lake while they are on the 
wing. Your yellow canary dips his bill in 
his drinking cup and then throws his pretty 
head backward in order to quench his 
thirst, but the dainty bam swallow scoops 
up a few drops of water in his lower bill, 
just as you would dip up a little water in 
the hollow of your hand while gliding in a 
boat over the surface of the lake. 

The little birdies are not quite so expert 
as their parents in taking their evening 
bath and drink on the glassy surface of 
the lake. 

There are other interesting things you 
may see about the barn swallow if you 
will but keep your eyes wide open and look 
for the wonders that are round about you. 


THE WHITE SQUIRREL 

A FEW years ago a snow-white squir- 
rel appeared near the writer’s home 
among the Berkshires, and it was her good 
fortune to have this white-furred, pink-eyed 
little beauty for a pet. This albino was not 
captured until autumn, when it was full 
grown. It was not quite as large or as 
strong as its companions, and so was more 
easily tamed. 

Few of the young people who keep tame 
squirrels realize that a cage with plenty of 
nuts and water is as hard for their pet as 
prison bars with bread and water for a boy. 
We found Frolic, the white squirrel, eager 
for all kinds of fruit except grapes. In 
June it stained its paws with strawberries; 
in August it feasted on mushrooms, and 
during winter birch buds fresh from the 

33 


34 


The White Squirrel 


snowy woods were always a great treat. 
Whenever the eage door was opened this 
fairy-like pet would elimb into the window 
garden and eagerly nibble the shining 
Christmas ferns. 

A large pan of snow on a bare floor 
makes an ideal romp for sueh a lively pet. 
Frolie would turn somersaults, and frisk 
and play by the half hour in delight over 
snow, never seen until it was shown her in 
the house. Instinct seemed to tell the 
squirrel, as it does the boys and girls, that 
snow is just the thing to play in. Often 
Frolic tried to coax the kitten to Tomp, 
plainly showing that a caged pet longs for 
companionship. 

Some time in February this squirrel dis- 
appeared entirely ; but when the family had 
given up their pet as lost, 'what was their 
surprise one sunny spring morning to see 
her returning along the rail fence with a 
baby squirrel in her mouth, exactly like an 
old cat with a kitten! The wise little 
mother made trip after trip, until she had 
her entire family of four safely housed in 


The White Squirrel 


35 


her old home in the spruce tree, where she 
knew perfectly well that she would find pro- 
tection and plenty of food. With mother- 
like instinct she undoubtedly brought the 
weakest first, for the last squirrel kitten was 
too heavy for the panting little mother, and 
she coaxed it along behind her over the 
perilous rail fence. 


WHO IS SHE.? 


I KNOW the dearest little 

girl. 

About as big as you. 

Her eyes are black or brown 
or gray, 

Or maybe they are blue ; 

But, anyway, her hands are 
clean ; 

Her teeth are white as snow ; 
Her little dress is always neat; 

She goes to school, you know. 
This little girl — I love her well 
And see her often, too — 

If I today her name should 
tell — 

She — might — be — you. 





BR’ER RABBIT 



N your 
books 
you have 
often read 
the stories 
of “Br’er 
Rabbit,” as told by Uncle Remus. The 
reason this cunning little animal figures 
in stories so many times is because he is 
about as cute and clever as any of the 
little creatures who live in the forest. The 


rabbits in the picture are really northern 
hares — cousins to the rabbits you may own 
as pets. You might say that the northern 
hare is a fashionable animal, for, strange as 
it may seem, he changes his pretty fur coat 
every season. In the summer it is thin in 
weight, and dark in color, and when he 



Br’er Rabbit 37 


stands still 
from fright 
his color 
shades into 
the brown 
colors of the 
underbrush so perfectly that often the 
hunter passes by him unnoticed. Br’er 
Rabbit is a clever little fellow, and knows 
how to protect himself from his many ene- 
mies. When pursued by dogs he tries to 
get to a stream of water, for he knows by 
instinct that the dogs will then lose the 
trail, and while they are roving restlessly 
up and down the banks of the water, he is 
happily hiding away on the other side, and 
when the coast is clear, he will swim back 
again to his cozy little home in the under- 
brush. Baby hares are more cunning even 
than kittens, and if you jiick one up — very 


38 


IBr’er Rabbit 


gently, for they are easily hurt — they will 
jump frantically in just the same way that 
a big, grown-up hare does. In the fall the 
hares begin to turn white, and by the time 
the snow lies thick on the ground, they have 
beautiful, soft, furry, white coats, and again 
it is hard for the hunter to find them be- 
cause they look so much like snow drifts as 
they huddle close to the wintry bushes. 



THE 

PICTURE 

BOOK 



T T’S all full of lions and old grizzly bears, 

And tigers and elephants, too! 

And lots o’ things never was seen anywheres 
But just in the ark or the zoo! 

There’re kitties and doggies and dear little mice. 

And little girls playing — just look! 

I guess by the time I have read it through twice 
I can say it right off of the book! 

There’re rhymes about fairies and brownies and such, 
With queer little pictures in black; 

And dear little children with shoes that are Dutch 
Go clickety-clickety-clack. 

All over the pages — beginning to end — 

It’s all just brimful of their tricks. 

O, wasn’t my auntie just lovely to send 
This book for the day I was six! 



39 



THE TWINS AND PEGGY 

J ANET and Jerry were twins, and they 
were seldom seen apart. At play Janet 
seemed to take the lead, and Jerry obeyed 
her commands in a way that sometimes 
greatly amused the family. But Jerry was 
a brave little lad, and he often saved his 
sister from great harm. 

One summer, when it was difficult to se- 
cure help. Uncle Tom engaged the twins to 
herd sheep for him. Moimted together on 
a little white pony, with a long whip to 
crack over any^ wandering sheep’s back, the 
twins rode proudly out upon the hills where 
the sheep were pastured. 

It was a wide range, and the children 
had many hours to play. They built stone 
houses, with a blanket roof, and a corral 
at one side. Here they read stories, ate 

40 



41 


42 The Twins and Peggy 

their luncheon and amused themselves with 
many games. 

Sometimes the twins raced about on 
Peggy, who could fly over the hills in flne 
shape when the whip snapped and stung 
her heels or side. They took turns, and 
the one on foot would start Peggy off 
with the whip, and laugh to see her spring 
away. 

One day Janet swung the whip round 
and round her head as she had seen big 
brother do when he wanted to make it 
crack. Laughing she brought it down to 
hit Peggy. It hit more than Peggy, for a 
sudden turn of the wrist brought the long 
lash in a stinging cut around her own bare 
legs. It stung like a red-hot wire. A burn- 
ing welt sprang up on the tender skin, and 
with a cry of pain Janet- dropped the whip 
and rolled upon the groimd. In vain Jerry 
sympathized with her, and bathed the 
smarting limbs. Janet could not stop 
wailing. 

“Oh, Jerry, Jerry!” she moaned, “just 
think how we have hurt Peggy! I didn’t 



The Twins and PeCxGY 43 

know how it hurt ! I ’ll never, never touch 
that whip again ! ’ ’ 

It was a lesson which Janet never for- 
got, and all her life she has been peculiarly 
sensitive and kind to every living creature, 
scorning the least touch of brutality. Janet 
is a sweet, womanly girl now, and her in- 
fluence over the pupils in her school is all 
for gentleness and peace. 


A KNIGHT OF LONG AGO 


HERE once lived in old 
England a very strong 
brave knight who owned 
beautiful castles and 
wonderful forests, and 
who had everything in 
the world to make him 
happy, or at least so it seemed to the 
poor people about him. But he was not 
happy. He was restless all the time. He 
wanted to do some great and noble deed, 
and he thought in order to do this he 
would have to leave his beautiful home and 
travel over the world. He was thinking 
one day upon these things and he fell 
asleep and dreamed that he had started on 
a journey. The sun shone brightly and the 
birds sang, “ and the very leaves seemed to 
sing on the trees.” The knight’s armor 
flashed like gold in the sunlight, and his 
heart was light, and carefree and happy. 
Just outside the castle gates there were 

44 



A Knight of Long Ago 45 

poor people begging the passers-by for food, 
but the knight gave no thought to these 
people. He was searching for something 
great to do. In his dreams the years 
passed by quickly and he 
searched the world over, but 
he never seemed to find any- 
thing that was great enough 
for him to do, and for this 
reason he let every chance 
that came his way to do a 
little good pass by. After 
awhile he grew old and still 
he did nothing great. He be- 
came poor too, and all his 
money was gone, and he came 
back home, only to find that 
no one knew him, and that 
strangers lived in his beauti- 
ful castle. He was thrust out 
of the gates and there he 
found other poor suffering 
people — the same kind of 
people that were always about 
his gate when he was master 




46 A Knight of Long Ago 

of the castle. But now he pitied them and 
shared his last crust with them, and they 
blessed him for his goodness. Then in his 
dream he saw a bright light all about him 
and he heard a Voice from heaven say: 
“ Be not afraid. You have searched in 
vain over all the world for some great 
thing to do, while there at your very gate 
were the poor and sick whom you could 
help.” Then the knight was filled with re- 
gret for all the years he had wasted, and 
he cried out in sorrow. But fortunately it 
was all a dream, and he awoke to find his 
castle safe, and the poor people still about 
his gates begging for help. And he called 
his people to him, and told them he had 
had a strange dream, and that he would 
not leave his beautiful home after all, in 
order to find some great thing to do for 
God, but would be kind and loving to all 
the poor and sick and helpless who lived 
near him. Then it was wonderful to see 
how happy and contented he became be- 
cause he had learned the meaning of the 
words ‘ ‘ Freely ye have received, freely give. ’ ’ 


SOMEBODY’S BIRTHDAY 

' I 'his is somebody’s birthday, 

Just as sure as fate; 

Some little boy is six years old, 

Some little girl is eight. 

Some little boy is three today. 

Some little girl thirteen; 

Some little twins are exactly two — 

Two apiece, I mean. 

Some one is eating his birthday cake 
And laughing over the plums! 

Some one is counting her birthday dolls 
On all her fingers and thumbs. 

Someone is bouncing his birthday ball. 
Or winding his birthday watch; 

Some one is not too wise or tall 
For birthday butter-scotch. 

Think of the beautiful birthday books. 
Think of the birthday cheer, 

Think of the birthday happiness 
Every day in the year! 

Every day in the year, my dear. 

Every day we’re alive. 

Some happy child is one or two 
Or three or four or five. 



47 


THE ROSE OF JERICHO 



N the land of Palestine there grows 


a plant, a kind of heather, which 
is named the “Rose of Jericho.” 
The Crusaders, who long ago 
made journeys to the Holy Land 
■ — the home of our Lord — care- 


fully gathered these blossoms and took 
them home, and told to others the strange 
stories which they had heard about this 
Rose of Jericho. One of these stories, the 
most beautiful one of all, so beautiful, in- 
deed, that we wish it were true, tells us that 
the Rose of Jericho began to blossom on the 
first Christmas Eve as a welcome to the 
Babe Christ, and that it continued to blos- 
som and bloom until Easter mom. This 
beautiful story is still loved by the children 
of the Holy Land; but, after all, the real 
history of the Rose of Jericho is quite as 
wonderful as any legend. 

This little flower grows in the south of 
Palestine, where the earth becomes very 
dry and parched in the summertime, baked 


49 


The Rose of Jericho 

by the heat of the glowing sun almost as 
hard as stone. The flower would surely die 
at this season were it not that God has 
given it a wonderful power to escape from 
the fearful heat of the desert. It reaches 
out its roots for water as long as there is 
the slightest bit of moisture in the earth; 
but as soon as it flnds that the little rivulet 
on which it depended for life is quite dried 
up, the Rose of Jericho drops its leaves one 
by one, gathers its branches together, and 
rolls itself up into a queer, round, elastic 
ball, light as a nutshell. Soon the hot 
winds sweep over the dry, parched earth 
and catch up the Rose of Jericho, roots 
and all, and toss it to and fro over the 
sands for days, or perhaps weeks, until it 
reaches a little oasis, a place where there 
is a spring or a stream or a tiny rivulet. 
The moment the plant flnds moisture it 
slowly uncurls its dry, unsightly branches 
and takes root again in the damp earth, 
its leaves come out in soft green colors, 
and its tiny flowers once more lift up their 
heads fearlessly and thankfully to the sun. 


THE DARING PRAIRIE DOGS 


EST of the Rocky Mountains, in 
charge of a big iron railroad 
engine, is a very fine engineer, 
who has dear little children, and they 
watch for his train at a certain time each 
week as it goes whizzing past their cot- 
tage, and they always run down to the pile 
of logs by the tracks to wave to him 
when it is time for his train. When the 
engineer comes home he always has some- 
thing interesting to tell his two children. 
And one day this was the story : He had 
a new run — away out west on the prairie 
— and as the train was speeding along 
at a great rate, they suddenly shot into 
the prairie dog region. There were prairie 
dog homes — queer round sand piles — as 
far as the eye could reach, and hundreds 
upon hundreds of the little animals play- 
ing about their homes or looking cau- 
tiously out of them at the big train as it 
sped along. The engineer was kind-heart- 




51 


52 The Daring Prairie Dogs 

ed, and he suddenly saw something that 
made him feel sad indeed. Right between 
the tracks for yards and yards ahead some 
prairie dogs had built their homes, and as 
the engine dashed along they did not run 
away, but sat up straight until the engineer 
could not see them any more. His face was 
so serious to think he had killed the pretty 
creatures — for of course he could not stop 
the train for prairie dogs — that the fireman 
asked him what was the matter. And how 
he did laugh when the engineer told him 
that he was sorry he had killed the prairie 
dogs. “ Why, you haven’t killed them, ” he 
said. “They live there all the time; it’s 
their home, and just as the engine gets to 
them they dive down into their holes. 
Look out the window when we come to 
that curve, and you’ll see.” And the en- 
gineer looked out, and sure enough, there 
they were bobbing around on the track, just 
as merry as ever, and not harmed a mite. 
Now, isn’t that a dangerous home for prai- 
rie dogs to choose ? The two little children 
thought so. 


SOMETHING ABOUT ENGINES 



HEN you little folks grow up and 


begin to read the wonderful story 


of your own and other countries across the 
seas, you will learn about many poor boys 
who become rich and famous just because 
they were brave and patient and real hard 
workers, and because, further, they tried 
always to do the right thing at the right 
time and in the right way. One such boy 
lived in England nearly a hundred years 
ago. He was very poor, and he had to 
work hard when he was only five years 
old. This boy lived near a big coal mine, 
and most of his work was picking stones 
out of the coal. He wanted to go to school, 
and he finally gained permission of the vil- 
lage schoolmaster to attend night school. 
Soon, in spite of his rags and poverty, peo- 
ple began to see he was an unusually bright 
laddie. All the time he worked he was in- 
terested in the various machinery of the 
mines, and he began to try experiments 



54 



Something About Engines 55 

with steam and machinery ; and after a time 
lieople began to speak of him as the finest 
engineer in the village, and then the finest 
in all the land. All this took him a long 
while, and he had many a hard knock be- 
fore he succeeded, but he did suceed, and 
built a locomotive that ran thirty miles an 
hour. That was wonderful for those days, 
and it led to the marvelous engines which 
we have now. When he was first thinking 
of building an engine, some one laughed at 
him and said : “ Suppose you invent an en- 
gine that can mn ten or twelve miles an 
hour, and suppose while it is running a 
cow should stray upon the track, wouldn’t 
that be a very awkward circumstance?” 
George Stephenson — for that is the boy’s 
name — replied with dancing eyes: “Yes, 
sir; I should think that it would be very 
awkward indeed — for the cow ! ’ ’ 




THY NEIGHBOR 
^ HE word “ neighbor, ’ ’ comes from 
two old Anglo-Saxon words, 
meaning “ near ’ ’ and “ dweller, ’ ’ 
hence, a neighbor is one who 
dwells or lives near to your 
home. When people are mov- 
ing from one home to another 
you are sure to hear them ask,' “What 
kind of neighbors will we have ? ’ ’ and 
the little folks in the home especially 
are anxious to know if there are bright, 
happy boys and girls nearby who will 
make good neighbors, or, in other words, 
good chums and playfellows. Neighbors 
have the power to make those about 
them happy or unhappy according to 
whether they are good and kind and 
thoughtful, or careless and noisy and bad- 
tempered. But there is another meaning to 
the word “neighbor,” and this meaning 
comes to us through one of the parables of 
the Bible. When our Lord was upon the 


Thy Neighbor 


57 


earth he was asked one day by a certain 
lawyer to explain the command which says, 
“ Love thy neighbor as thyself.” The law- 
yer said to Christ, “Who is my neighbor?” 
and because of this question we have the 
parable of the good Samaritan. That story 
tells better than anything else could what 
a neighbor really is, and how a neighbor 
should act. If you have forgotten this 
story, you will have to read it again in the 
gospel of Saint Luke. It tells how a cer- 
tain man went traveling from Jerusalem to 
Jericho, and fell among thieves and was 
robbed and beaten, and left on the road- 
side to die. A priest came down that way, 
but when he saw the poor man he passed 
by on the other side because he did not 
want to be troubled with the care of him. 
A Levite came also and looked upon him as 
he lay wounded and bleeding in the road- 
way, but he, too, passed by on the. other 
side. Then came the man, who since that 
day has been called the good Samaritan. 
He saw the woimded man, and turned aside 
and had pity on him, and bqimd up his 



58 


Thy Neighbor 


59 


wounds, and placed him on the back of his 
own horse and took him to an inn, and 
left money to take care of him, and said 
to the inn-keeper; “If you need more, I 
will pay you when I come again.” When 
Christ finished telling this story he then 
asked the lawyer a question: “Which now 
of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor 
unto him that fell among thieves?” And 
the answer of the law^^er was: “He that 
showed mercy on him.” “Then,” said 
Jesus, unto the lawyer, “go, and do thou 
likewise,” meaning that everyone whom you 
can help is your neighbor — everyone who 
needs your care and your love and sym- 
pathy, be the}^ near or far. 



A FOREST THIEF 

I N the forests of 
southern Califor- 
nia lives a little ani- 
mal called a wood rat. 
He is too bright and 
clever not to have a 
better name than 
that, for he is as cute 
and quick as a squir- 
rel, and would make 
a good pet except for one fault, and a 
very funny fault it is. The wood rat is a 
perfect little magpie — he steals everything 
he can lay his little paws on that is small 
enough to carry away, and he has been 
known to carry off to his nest all manner 
of small objects, even jewels, for, of 
course, he doesn’t know the value of any- 
thing he fancies, but he likes their glitter 
and color. One time a servant in a club 
house was blamed for stealing. The serv- 
ant said over and over that he had not 

6o 



A Forest Thief 


6i 

taken a single thing, and one day, when 
some of the members were out hxmting, 
they stumbled upon 
the nest of a wood rat, 
and found all the ob- 
jects carefully stored 
away. Doesn’t it seem 
funny to think of a 
little wood creature 
wanting a pocket knife 
and shaving brush and 
visiting cards ? The 
nest of the wood rat is beautifully made in 
the form of a ball. It is soft and smooth 
inside, and as cosy a place as any animal 
would wish. Sometimes the nest is placed 
low down close to the ground and some- 
times it is hung high up in some big tree. 
Even when this pretty little creature is 
tamed, he will steal small objects and hide 
them all over the house, like a veritable 
magpie. 



THE SHORTEST DAY 



A LITTLE day ran past 

Without a word from me. 

I thought it ran too fast, 

But that could hardly be, 

Because a little boy next door, they say. 
Found time to speak a happy word that day. 


A little day was spent 
Almost before I knew: 

I wondered where it went, ' 

And so, indeed, would you. 

If, on a sudden, at the set of sun, 

You foimd how very little you had done. 
62 


A LOYAL PATRIOT 


OME years ago there 
was an American boy 
who lived for a time 
with his parents in a 
foreign country. He 
visited the United States 
very seldom, still was as 
loyal a little patriot as 
one could find. He 
thought the American 
flag was the most beautiful flag in the 
world, and being abroad of course he had 
seen many other flags. He loved the 
foreign country where he lived 
very much, but loved best the 
United States. But he was 
such a small boy that grown- 
up people little thought he 
could imderstand what the flag 
meant, or even that he could be 
very fond of his own country. 

One day an American visitor 
came to his home, and they 

63 




64 A Loyal Patriot 

talked together about Ameriea, the beauti- 
ful land over the sea. Perhaps the visitor 
was a little home-siek 
for America. At any 
rate, he was very glad 
to find, someone who 
loved his own country 
as this little boy did. 
When the time came 
for this stranger to 
go back to his home, 
the boy went down 
to the big steamer to watch him sail away 
to the land he loved. Just as the new 
friend was leaving he gave the boy a beau- 
tiful American flag. Wild with 
delight, the little fellow waved 
it as long as he could see his 
American friend on the deck. 

“ What does that flag mean ? ’ ’ 
asked someone standing near. 

“ It means,” cried the little 
boy patriotically, “it means 
‘Hurrah for the United States ! ’ 

That’s what it means!” 





i > 







DEC 10 1907 





